


Gone

by Fyre



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-17
Updated: 2012-09-17
Packaged: 2017-11-14 11:34:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/514798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fyre/pseuds/Fyre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Baelfire disappears, it doesn't go unnoticed in the village.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gone

It was three days since Morraine had seen Baelfire.

That wasn’t unusual anymore. Sometimes, he stayed in the house when his father was there just to make sure his father didn’t do anything or hurt anyone. It was true that he was the Dark One now, but even Morraine could see that he still loved Baelfire.

Everyone knew how important Baelfire was to his papa.

When she was small, Morraine remembered when Baelfire fell and hurt his arm. His poor papa could barely walk, but at the sight of his son crying, he had almost run, limping as fast as his lame leg would carry him. He had stroked Baelfire’s hair and hugged him and stopped him crying.

Even if he looked like a monster and acted like a monster sometimes, he still loved Baelfire.

Two more days went by and there was no sign of Baelfire. There was no sign of the Dark One either, even though candles burned through the night in the cottage. No one dared to go and see if they were okay. Morraine watched and waited and asked her parents, but they just hushed her, as if the Dark One would hear and crush her.

In the end, she knew someone had to be brave for Baelfire’s sake. It wasn’t good for him to be shut away, and they had to be running out of food. Magic couldn’t make food, even if it could conjure it. 

She waited until her parents were at the harvest. She was meant to be helping with the threshing, but no one noticed when she was there. They wouldn’t notice if she wasn’t. She slipped away, hurrying through the village to the house that had once been the Mayor’s but that had become the Dark One’s as soon as he demanded it.

Morraine knocked on the door. There was a crash from inside, something shattering. 

“Baelfire?” she called. “Are you okay?”

No one replied, so she knocked again.

The door was wrenched open. 

Rumpelstiltskin was standing there. He looked half-mad, his hair wild around his face, his eyes wide and staring. Magic was swirling around him like a purple cloak. She knew she should be scared of him, but she could still remember him when he ducked his head when he talked to people and flinched when her father spoke to him. He was a good man.

“Yessss?” he hissed.

Morraine twisted her hands together. “Is Baelfire there?” she asked nervously. There was something wrong. He jerked as if she had hit him when she said Baelfire’s name, and bared his teeth like a frightened animal. 

“No, dear, no, no, no indeed,” he said, his hands twitching in front of his chest. They danced about his face, as if thoughts were trying to escape and he was trying to catch them. “Run along. Run away. I have much to be doing and no time for little girls.”

“Is something wrong?” she whispered, her mouth dry.

He looked like a half-wild animal, nervous like a deer. For a moment, he looked just like he had when she came to tell him that Baelfire was hurt. The scales and lizard eyes and claws didn’t matter. He was still the spinner who was afraid. 

Then he laughed, a strange, mad little giggle. It was high-pitched and not like him at all. “Wrong? Why would anything be wrong, dearie?” He fluttered his hands in a shooing gesture, his eyes darting every which way. “No, not at all. Lots to be done.”

Morraine didn’t know why she did it. Maybe if he looked at her, listened, he would hear what she was trying to ask him, the question he was trying not to answer. She reached out and grabbed his wrist.

He looked at her like a rabbit caught in the hunter’s sights, and Rumpelstiltskin was gone, and the Dark One looked back at her. “Bold, aren’t you, dearie?” he said, baring his teeth and leaning closer. “I would let go if I were you.”

She shook her head. She felt afraid now, but she had to know. If he had done something to Baelfire, then he really was as bad as could be, and Rumpelstiltskin would never come back.

“Where’s Baelfire? Please, where is he?” He stared back at her, lips peeling back from his teeth. She felt sick, sick and scared. He loved Baelfire. He loved him. She knew he did. And Baelfire loved him so much, and he wasn’t there. She wasn’t scared anymore. She wasn’t scared at all. She squeezed his wrist as hard as she could. “What did you _do_?”

His features crumpled and he jerked his arm free of her wrist, stumbling back into the darkness of the house. She should have left him, she should have run, she should have done anything but step after him, the Dark One.

“What did you do to him?” she cried out. “What did you do?”

The Dark One was backing away from her, as if she was wielding a weapon, his fingers tangled in his hair, twisting, and she heard a shrill, painful whimper. He sounded like a beast in pain. “He’s gone,” he whispered. “Gone. Gone. Gone.”

Morrain was shaking. Gone? Dead? She snatched a knife off the table, suddenly scared that he might harm her too. If he harmed Baelfire, he could harm anyone. She pointed it, the knife with it’s wavy blade straight at him. “What did you do?”

His claws were sunk into his brow, and he was breathing hard, but he looked at her, straight at her, and the knife in her hand. “I let him go,” he breathed out, dragging his fingers from his face. He laughed, painful and shrill. “He’s gone forever! I let him go!”

“You really are the Dark One,” Morraine whispered, her eyes filling with tears.

“No!” He screamed it, like it was important, shaking his head wildly. “No! My name is Rumpelstiltskin! I am Rumpelstiltskin!” He stumbled towards her, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her so hard her teeth rattled. “I’m going to find him. I will.” He looked down at her hands, at the knife shivering between them. “Tell me,” he whispered urgently. “Tell me to find him. Tell me I will.”

She stared at him. “Why?” she whispered. “You let him go. Why should I let you hurt him again?”

He squeezed her arms so hard it hurt. “I have to go with him,” he breathed, all wild and ragged. “I have to be with my boy. I have to find him and be rid of this. I have to.”

Even behind the madness in his eyes, the monster that was looking at her, she could see him again. Even through the hot tears on her face, tears for Baelfire who was lost, tears for the pain in her arms, tears for the stupid man in front of her, she could see him: he was Rumpelstiltskin.

“You’re going to find him,” she said. “I want you to find him. You need to find him.”

Rumpelstiltskin folded down onto this knees with a sob, his hands dragging down her arms and falling away. She lowered the dagger. It was trembling so much that it rattled when she put it down on the table. 

“Make it right,” she whispered. “He believed in you. Make it right.”

She reached out, and almost touched his bowed head, but she couldn’t touch him, couldn’t touch the man who had hurt his son, cast him away. Maybe, if he made it right, brought Baelfire back, she could forgive him, but not now, not even if he was still Rumpelstiltskin. 

She backed towards the door, and when she turned away, she heard the quietest of sobs.

Morraine was brave in some ways, but not in others.

She wasn’t brave enough to stay and comfort a monster.

She stepped out into the day, closed the door behind her, and didn’t look back.


End file.
